Flames of the Past
by MiniaturePuffskein
Summary: It's 9 years since the Battle of Hogwarts. At a friend's wedding, Hermione and Pansy, unlikely best friends, reunite with a certain Slytherin who has been previously involved with both of them. What happens next is totally unexpected. M for a reason!
1. Grab Your Hat and Fetch Your Camera

**Chapter 1: Grab Your Hat And Fetch A Camera**

A/N: Hope you like this, it's my first fic! The chapter title comes from _She's A Handsome Woman_ by Panic! at the Disco.

Hermione smoothly adjusted the navy satin dress, rolled her ankles to stop her shoes from biting into her heels, and pulled back the curtain with a hesitant smile.

"Well? What do you think?"

Pansy looked up from the most recent issue of the _Daily Prophet_.

"I'm so jealous of you," she said teasingly, theatrically putting on a wistful face and her hand to her chest. "You're so gorgeous, and you haven't even done up your hair or put on makeup, ignoring the fact that you don't need it. I'm going to look like a pile of dragon dung next to you!"

Hermione laughed and walked over to sit next to her best friend, picking up her hands and swinging them around. "Me? Frizz-ball, know-it-all, eats-at-all-hours-of-the-day Hermione Granger?"

Pansy rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Oh yes, I forgot about that. You could eat nothing but Bertie Botts' for the next decade and not gain a single pound! Now stop putting yourself down and pay for that damn dress that makes you look like an absolute angel!"

Hermione did as she was bid with a laugh, and soon, they were walking arm-in-arm outside through the centre of London.

"I'm so excited for Luna and Dean" said Hermione as they paused to look at a window display full of glittering jewels. "They're so in love with each other … "

"And she's already three months preggers! Mind you, I have to say that I thought at first he only wanted to marry her because she was pregnant."

"Pants!" admonished Hermione, using the nickname she had coined for her friend. "He proposed a full month before they found out!"

"Yeah, but I didn't know that until about two weeks after he popped the question."

By now they had reached The Leaky Cauldron. Pushing the door open, they were greeted by a babble of talk, the tantalising aroma of oak-matured mead, and Tom, who smiled toothlessly at them from behind the bar.

Smiling back at him, they crossed the little pub and entered the courtyard outside. They weren't visiting Diagon Alley however. Both witches gripped each other tightly on the arm and turned on the spot, vanishing completely into thin air.

A split second later, they had arrived at Pansy's flat. Hermione giggled.

"Remember the time you had too much to drink and Disapparated in front of those Muggles? Lucky I grabbed you at the last moment and Apparated back to The Leaky Cauldron's front door."

Pansy laughed as well, joining her friend as they revisited that episode only a few months ago. "I still remember you trying to make up a story to explain what those poor souls had seen! Magicians practising randomly in the streets and then asking the viewer if they thought the trick had been convincing enough, what a laugh!"

"Well they did seem to think it _was_ extremely convincing."

Pansy laughed once more as they reached her bedroom with an adjoining en suite. "Come on, let's get ready. The grand Thomas – Lovegood wedding starts in three hours and you only just bought your dress!"

An hour later, they were ready. Hermione had given her new dress a quick once-over with her wand (_"Scourgify!"_), and put it on, loving the feeling of feather-light satin gliding down her body as she slipped it over her head. The dress was shorter than the usual floaty gowns she wore to formal occasions, only reaching to her knees, but it was chic and demure so she didn't mind. It had a structured bodice and two thick straps reaching over her shoulders. Hermione had liked this dress even before she tried it on; it was different from her usual style, but at the same time, so similar. Classy, demure. Just in a different way this time. She slipped on her shoes, wriggling her pointer finger around the inside of the heel. They were new and hadn't been broken in properly yet; as a precaution, Hermione performed a Cushioning Charm on her feet before slipping them into the navy pumps. Her hair, better than it had been during her teenage years at Hogwarts, was still usually curly, with loose strands going haywire whenever there was moisture or static in the air. Now it had been perfectly tamed with one swish of Pansy's wand, resting at the top of her head in a chignon, tight enough to keep every hair in place, loose enough to look elegantly relaxed. Very subtle highlights had been added so that it complemented the deep navy sheen of her dress perfectly.

Pansy, on the other hand, had dressed in garishly bright colours, having remembered Luna's love for wearing sun colours to weddings. She had refused to wear yellow, saying that it made her look like a bumblebee, what with her raven-black hair, but had instead opted for bright orange. Hermione had jokingly asked her about her views on looking like a tiger, conjuring two pillows in mid-air as she spoke, in case she needed to defend herself, but Pansy had just laughed and told her she knew she didn't mean it. She'd been right; Hermione thought she looked amazing. The vivid orange contrasted sharply against Pansy's pale white skin and black hair, but she was still a vision. Sparkly sandals that threw out little lights whenever she walked completed her look.

"You look fantastic!" they both squealed at the same time, before cracking up.

"Okay, pull yourself together", said Hermione. "We're bridesmaids, we should've been there ten hours ago giggling and teasing the bride-to-be!"

"Oh of course," agreed Pansy with a look of mock-seriousness on her face. "How else will she know about that huge pimple that's just erupted on her forehead? Or about the bachelorette party photos being leaked to the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Pants!" shrieked Hermione. "We want Luna to be alive for her own wedding ceremony!"

Pansy had doubled up in hysterical laughter now, clutching at her beige leather sofa to keep standing. "Oh please, you know that would be hilarious! Can you imagine the look on her face if we told her the _Prophet_ had photos of her doing Jelly Slug shots from – "

"I'm going, join me when your Essence of Insanity potion wears off," said Hermione, her voice shaking with laughter, and with a pop, she had disappeared. Pansy straightened up, still chuckling to herself as she remembered the party three weeks ago. She ran her hands over the chiffon, smoothing out any creases, grabbed her clutch and Hermione's, which the latter had left behind, and with a pop like Hermione's, Disapparated.

What do you guys think? Review please! (:

-MiniaturePuffskein


	2. What A Beautiful Wedding

**What A Beautiful Wedding**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Title comes from **_**I Write Sins, Not Tragedies**_** by Panic! at the Disco.**

"You forgot this," said Pansy, handing Hermione her clutch.

"Thanks," smiled Hermione.

"Pants! Mione!" called a dreamy voice that resonated with happiness. "Over here!"

Pansy and Hermione looked around until they saw a hand waving from behind a tent flap. As they made their way to the hand, they noticed that there were three tents, the largest one being a huge yellow marquee, not unlike the one Hermione had seen present at Bill and Fleur Weasley's wedding. The other two tents, also yellow, but much smaller were standing on either side of the enormous marquee. The two witches could only assume they were for the bride and groom.

They pushed aside the heavy luxe yellow swatch of fabric and entered the tent, to be immediately engulfed in hugs from Luna.

"Ow! Luna, can't breathe!"

"You're treading on my toes!"

"Calm down, woman!"

"Sorry," breathed Luna, still sounding relatively serene and dreamy despite her exuberant behaviour. "Excited, you know. Daddy's invited all of our friends over for the wedding, I'm rather pleased. I mean, I knew that would be so inconvenient, especially because he was scared people would try and steal our Dirigible Plums again, but – " 

"We wouldn't miss it for the world, Luna," said Pansy, beaming. Hermione held Luna by the elbows at arms' length.

"Luna, you look amazing! Really, Dean is so lucky to have you."

Luna blushed slightly, a pink fog creeping into her cheeks. "You think so? I really wanted to wear sun colours but everyone told me white would be better, more traditional. I love this dress, but I think I would've liked yellow just a tiny bit better. At least white keeps Wrifflers away though. Have you heard of them? A new hybrid species, the Ministry cross-bred Nifflers and Wrackspurts in one of the Departments and since they can flicker between being visible and invisible, they lost track of the entire experiment and they all snuck out of the Ministry! They hate the colour white though."

Hermione and Pansy both smiled genuinely at her. They'd stopped exchanging glances after a speech like this from Luna years ago.

Luna's dress was stunning in every way. It was an off-the-shoulder dress, with the two straps wrapped around her slim upper arms perfectly in line with the top of her bodice. A flowing skirt draped down from the thick white band around her waist, adorned with a bow on the side, falling to about an inch from the floor, just exposing the toes and thin heel of her bright yellow sandals.

"Yes, well I just had to have _some_ yellow on my wedding day," said Luna when she saw the grins on Hermione and Pansy's faces broaden.

"It goes great with your dress," replied Pansy. "Listen, Luna, would it be alright if we had a look around? You said everyone's here and we haven't seen a lot of people for ages. We'll be back in an hour or so."

"Oh of course!" said Luna happily. "I don't mind how long you're gone for, I'm sure I'll always have someone here with me. Just come back before the ceremony starts for your corsages!"

"As if we'd forget," said Hermione, getting to her feet. "Congratulations, Luna, this is going to be such a great day!"

Outside the tent, Hermione turned to Pansy. "You know, I'd never thought there would be a day when Luna was actually reminding us about something."

Pansy smiled a little awkwardly. "I wouldn't really know, I never knew her that well when she was completely 'loony'."

The two friends were silent for a moment as they remembered what had happened in the years following the Battle of Hogwarts. Pansy, along with some other Slytherins, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott had come back after the battle to make amends. They had said they weren't just crawling back because the Dark Lord had fallen … they had wanted this a long time ago, but had been too cowardly to defy Voldemort, the pureblood nonsense, their families' expectations. Pansy remembered Theodore's words and wry smile.

"_There's a reason the Sorting Hat didn't place us in Gryffindor. We're bloody cowards, and manipulative to boot, but we don't care anymore, we just want to do what we should have done a long time ago and at a time when it mattered."_

Crabbe and Goyle hadn't come with them. Crabbe had of course died in the Room of Requirement during the battle, consumed in his own Fiendfyre maelstrom. Goyle had supposedly left after waking up, alone, lying in the middle of the corridor facing the odd tapestry depicting trolls in pink tutus. He was clearly not as stupid as they had all thought he was; with the battle raging around everywhere else, he had quickly used the Room of Requirement, which fortunately for him, still worked, opening an escape route. He hadn't been seen since.

Pansy, Blaise, Draco and Theodore had slowly been accepted by the light side fighters. To no one's surprise, Ron hadn't wanted them as friends at all, insulting them at every opportunity at first. However, soon he came to realise that if he could just shut his mouth for two minutes, the fact that they were actually good people dawned on him, and now he was close friends with Blaise, who was the manager of his Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons.

"Yeah, well," said Hermione lightly. "It's great that you're here now."

Pansy looked around discreetly for something to say. "Listen, I see Theodore over there. Do you mind if I go talk to him for a bit?"

"Of course not, go," said Hermione, who had also been at a loss as to what to say. "I'll go find Harry and Ron."

Pansy walked off quickly, leaving Hermione rooted to the spot for a moment, watching her go.

"Granger?"

Hermione stiffened at the sound of that soft voice. Tears welled unexpectedly in her eyes.

"_Granger?"_ the voice had asked.

Had they really been out of contact for so long that they were back to last name basis?

**A/N: So what did you think? For those people who are now shaking their heads at my mention of the saintly, turned-good-overnight Slytherins (especially Malfoy, since after all, he's one of the main characters); don't worry. Some things are better left unsaid, but that doesn't mean I won't hesitate to reveal all (;**


	3. Back To The Street Where We Began

**Back To The Street Where We Began**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, and for the record so that I don't have to keep writing disclaimers, I don't own anything Harry Potter-related in this fan fiction story **_**Flames of the Past**_**, written by user MiniaturePuffskein (AKA me).**

**Title's from **_**Nine in the Afternoon**_** by Panic! at the Disco. Sorry, I know all the chapters have been P!ATD lyrics. I really like them!**

* * *

Hermione quickly blinked her tears away before turning slowly around.

"Hello, Malfoy."

The words stuck in her throat as she stared at him. He looked so different now and yet so familiar.

_God, _she thought. _I haven't seen him in six years. Why has it been so long?_

She knew the exact reason, but it melted into the background as she studied him. He still had the same silvery eyes, piercing as always, surrounded by a pale face with a pointy chin and high cheekbones. His blond hair had darkened somewhat, now streaked with slightly darker, mellower shades of blond, in addition to his original platinum strands. It was no longer slicked back, but fell in short tumbles and waves to the nape of his neck, with some strands hanging into his eyes. His face was a bit sunken and hollows had appeared in his cheeks, making him more angular, but it only added to his looks. He was dressed in a simple black tuxedo suit, minimalistic, and with a white dress shirt underneath.

There was a pause as they were both unable to speak, thinking back to events six years ago.

_I'm too young for this,_ thought Hermione. _Barely twenty-six and I've already fallen out so much with this man. I know I hated him for seven years, but our friendship … and other connections after that really made up for it. And now even that's lost._

"I … had trouble seeing if it really was you," he said quietly. "You looked so different from the back."

"Well, it's me," she replied awkwardly. "So … what's been happening with you?"

She didn't want to hear his answer though, couldn't listen to what she'd missed out on by not being his friend for the last six years.

Instead, she cast her mind back to six years previously.

"_Come back, Hermione!" Draco yelled as he followed her out of the Malfoy Manor._

"_Wait!"_

_Hermione kept running. _

"_I'm sorry!" he yelled. "Please, please, just stop."_

"_I don't want to be here anymore," Hermione gasped, stopping suddenly on the garden path and turning to face him again. "Just let me leave."_

"_Hermione, I'm sorry. It doesn't mean anything, it's just memorabilia – "_

"_Memorabilia?" she repeated disbelievingly. "You call that memorabilia? Those were Dark objects and I found them stashed in a secret room in your closet. You actually have a literal skeleton in the closet!" By now she was shrieking._

"_Have you really come over to us, Draco? Have you truly left your past?"_

"_Of course I have Hermione. You know it." His voice was softer now, less desperate._

"_No, I don't. Why do you still have those – things?"_

"_I honestly don't know. I'm a hoarder, it comes from my childhood. I didn't always get normal childhood experiences so I kept relics from anything significant that happened, whether it was happy or sad didn't matter. Becoming a Death Eater was a huge part of my life, even though I hated it, and that's why I have those things."_

"_I don't know whether to believe you, Draco."_

"_Believe me, Hermione. I … I love you. I'd never lie to you."_

_Hermione looked sadly into his pleading grey eyes. "But you'd hide things from me. I'm sorry, Draco."_

_She'd Disapparated before he had a chance to reply. _

_Their relationship had ended with that final soft pop. The last thing she remembered from that night was downing her seventh shot of Firewhiskey before slumping onto the bar, finally able to forgot Draco's anguished face as she slipped into unconsciousness._

"Granger?" A worried look crossed Malfoy's face. "Are you alright?"

Hermione realised she'd been staring vacantly at his face for some time now.

"Uh, yeah. I'm okay. I'm just going to go over there and …" She tailed off helplessly at the end.

"Nice to see you again."

"Um, yes, you too." Hermione turned around unsteadily, almost falling in her heels. "Goodbye," she added, as she walked quickly over to where Ginny was standing.

Five hours later, she had almost completely forgotten about Malfoy. The wedding had gone perfectly, everyone in bright clothes and mismatched groups of people had dominated the scene. Such a dysfunctional, yet perfect wedding. Luna's idea of the perfect circus. Her bridesmaids, Hermione, Pansy and Ginny had worn navy, orange and pink, and carried an odd mix of tulips and birds of paradise in their bouquets. Dean's groomsmen had been Harry, Ron and Theodore, who had worn purple, red and green, with white roses tucked into their buttonholes. Ron, in his red hair and red suit, had been almost too bright to look at.

After the ceremony was over, the real party had begun. Little gnomes had served refreshments, often taking some for themselves while walking around with the trays balanced on their ugly, knobbly heads, and people had danced, talked, drank and eaten all night.

_It was really wonderful_, thought Hermione. Pansy had long disappeared with some distant male relative of Luna's, so she was making her way home herself. She had drank a bit of Firewhiskey that night, not enough to make her lose control of herself, but enough to know that Apparition was not the best idea. She had never Splinched herself, and didn't intend to start now.

Rummaging around in the small beaded clutch that had also accompanied her, Harry and Ron and their Horcrux search, she extracted a tiny wallet containing her Muggle money. After confirming she had enough for the long cab ride home, she set off down the path towards the main road.

Five minutes later, she was standing on the side of a busy road, swinging her hand out whenever she caught sight of a taxi. None of them had stopped for her.

_Why does everyone need a taxi tonight?_ she grumbled. A light alcohol-induced headache was starting to take hold, and the sounds of traffic did nothing to help ease it. She stood rubbing her temples with her eyes closed, head pounding for a moment, and suddenly, felt a violent pair of hands grab her around the waist.

She screamed, but a large truck drove by right at that moment, covering the sound of her scream and also blocking the street's view of Hermione and her attacker. Taking advantage of this split-second privacy, the owner of the hands pulled her into an alley.

"'ullo, pretty," a voice breathed in Hermione's ear. She could smell cheap beer and tobacco on his breath. Her throat was tight, she couldn't speak. The man pulled her deeper into the dark alley and she trembled when she felt his hands, previously at her waist, begin to snake up and down the length of her torso.

"Reckon you like that, eh, pretty missy", the voice said tauntingly. "Well, even if you don't, I do, that's what counts, eh?"

Hermione whimpered as he started slowly pulling the zipper down the back of her dress.

"Hush now," said her attacker. In a flurry, he had the dress unzipped and in a heap on the floor. He kicked it aside and turned Hermione around so that she was facing him, and slammed her into the alley wall. In the dim light, Hermione could only see a sliver of the man's face. She closed her eyes and started to cry, started to cry with her bare back against a dirty stone wall, her ankles hurting as they'd been harshly twisted around in the heels she wore while being dragged around, and fear filling every nerve in her body. She waited blindly, terrified, for something to happen. Then something did.

Her attacker went flying away from her. She opened her eyes. Draco Malfoy of all people stood there, wand out, livid. The man who had attacked her was unconscious, sprawled on the ground and bleeding slightly from the head.

"_Obliviate,_" whispered Malfoy harshly, his voice rough with fury and relief. He picked up Hermione's dress and handed it back to her, carefully averting his gaze as she was still too shocked to remember to cover herself up. But he couldn't help but notice … no, no, that wasn't appropriate at all.

Hermione dressed herself with shaking hands.

"Let's go," Malfoy said.

Silently, Hermione followed him, not even knowing where he was taking her. But he'd just saved her; she trusted him blindly right now.

They walked a little distance away from the unconscious man, halfway between him and the main road. Malfoy grasped Hermione's arm and turned on the spot, whisking them away to …

The Malfoy Manor.

**

* * *

**

**Ooh, what's Draco bringing Hermione to his place for? –wink wink– **

**Kidding, guys. It's not for what I was trying to make you believe it would be; I have to make you wonderful readers suffer for a bit before putting something like **_**that**_** in! **

**HOWEVER (SPOILER ALERT, LOOK AWAY NOW IF YOU WANT): Something big will happen in the next chapter concerning Dramione. And it'll be one-sided. And heart-breaking for one of them. BUT I WON'T SAY WHO.**


	4. Is It Still Me That Makes You Sweat

**Is It Still Me That Makes You Sweat?**

**Title's from a – yep you guessed it – Panic! at the Disco song. **_**Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking off Her Clothes.**_

_**

* * *

**_

"What – what are we doing here?" asked Hermione.

Malfoy said nothing, instead taking her firmly by the arm and walking her towards the huge house. She had been here before, on countless occasions. Rather than walking her to the front door though, he was taking her around the side, to where the gardens were. Or was he?

He made a sharp turn left a little way down the path to the gardens and opened up a secret door in the wall. Hermione was apprehensive and didn't move in when Malfoy stood aside to let her in first.

Sighing ever so quietly, he walked through the low door first and held out a hand to lead her inside. A spiral staircase wound tightly upwards, reminding Hermione a bit of the North Tower back at Hogwarts which she had had to climb back in third year for Divination classes.

No one had said a word yet.

Finally, they arrived on a landing, with another low door identical to the one downstairs. Malfoy opened it and this time, she walked through first, entering an average-sized room whose walls were lined with books. There was a fireplace in the wall to the right, but no fire crackled there now. An ornate table stood in the centre of the room, resting four carved legs in the shape of paws. A single high-backed, cushioned armchair was positioned near it, facing the fireplace. On the opposite wall was yet another door.

Hermione furrowed her brow, looking around the room again. It seemed familiar …

Suddenly she knew.

"Dra – Malfoy," she began. "This is the room I found the Dark objects in."

Malfoy ignored her. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Hermione shook a little as she remembered what had just happened. "Yes," she said tremulously. "But Malfoy. Tell me – is this the same room as before?"

"Yes," he said tersely. "After you left I couldn't bear it. I cleared the room out, burnt everything and changed it into my personal library. I hope you're happy."

Hermione paused. "I am."

There was an uneasy silence. Malfoy walked over the third door and opened it for them. As they walked out, they passed through a line of expensive robes, hanging from the closet railing. Draco unlocked his wardrobe door with a tap of his wand, and together, they walked into his room.

Hermione bit her lip as memories came pouring out. The first time she had been invited over, their four months anniversary, her birthday, his birthday, all spent in this room. It was still the same. Nothing had changed at all except for the lack of photos plastering the walls. The last time she had been here, the entire northern wall was covered with photos, and to a lesser extent, posters. Hermione remembered jumping in shock the first time she'd seen the wall; the countless laughing faces had looked like wriggling insects from a distance. She fought hard against the tears.

"Malfoy?" she ventured.

He nodded.

"How did you find me?"

"I was following you."

Hermione drew in a quick breath. "Why?"

"Innocent intentions. I actually had to take the same road as you. I thought it would be awkward walking with you, or catching the same cab as you, so I stayed a distance behind."

The bluntness of his comments stung.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

Malfoy didn't know what to do. He hadn't seen her for six years. They'd had an emotional end to their relationship and nothing had been done by either of them to even try to repair the damage. And yet … he knew that he still held her close to his heart. Perhaps he hadn't realised it in the six years between the last times they'd seen each other, but once face to face … he was painfully aware of it. He didn't need anyone to point it out to him. He was smart enough to figure it out for himself.

But what about Hermione? What did she feel? Was she still angry? Did she hate him? How did she feel after he had just saved her from a drunken Muggle?

Was it … was it just possible that she might feel the same way that he did now?

"You're welcome to stay the night," he said, knowing the silence had again stretched too long.

Hermione nodded. "Thank you."

Both silently prepared for bed, Hermione in the bathroom changing into a t-shirt and shorts that Malfoy dug out for her, and Draco sitting outside, still thinking to himself.

_Did she? Or did she not?_

He wanted nothing more than her. He couldn't even try denying it. Ever since she had so abruptly walked out of his life, he had repressed the memory of her hair swishing from side to side as she ran out of the Manor. Now she was back, he had seen that lovely hair, her beautiful face, and he wanted her back.

The door to the en suite slid open.

"Oh," exclaimed Hermione, seeing Malfoy still fully dressed. "Were you waiting to use the bathroom?"

"I was thinking of sleeping arrangements," Malfoy lied easily. But now that he had said it, it was a good point; how were they going to sleep?

"I could go to a guest bedroom," suggested Hermione, looking at the bedroom door.

"No. I'd rather not let my parents know you were here."

Something stuck inside Hermione's throat. "Well then I guess I'll sleep on the floor," she said lamely.

"Don't be stupid," said Malfoy. "We're mature, we can share a bed." He had no idea what had made him say that so boldly.

Hermione visibly gulped. "Uh, well – are you sure that's okay?"

"Of course," said Malfoy, and going to the closet again, he picked up a bundle of clothes and walked quickly to the en suite.

Feeling unsure of herself, Hermione gingerly climbed into the huge king-sized bed. It felt so familiar all of a sudden. She held back the tears again, burying her head up to her nose under the covers and inhaling the sweet smell of Draco Malfoy that lingered in the sheets.

The en suite door slid open again. Hermione immediately rolled over onto her side, facing away from the centre of the bed. This left her facing the en suite doorway.

She almost squeaked. Malfoy was walking out in nothing but a pair of cotton boxers, his defined chest completely exposed. Quickly, she closed her eyes and pretended she had not seen. Moments later, she felt him get into bed and turn on his side so that he was also facing away from the centre of the bed, back to her.

Silence.

"Um … goodnight," whispered Hermione as Malfoy extinguished the lights with a flick of his wand.

More silence. This theme was getting old. The ticking of the elaborate grandfather clock in the corner was quietly audible, each of its ticks counting how many notches the prickly awkwardness in the room had gone up by.

"My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy," he said suddenly.

"I know that," said Hermione, obviously very confused.

"My father is Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and my mother is Narcissa Malfoy, known before her marriage as Narcissa Black."

Another pause in which Hermione wondered what on earth was happening.

"I am a pureblood."

"I joined the Death Eaters when I was 16."

"I was unwilling and hated being part of that group."

"I like to collect and hoard things that remind me of significant events."

"I used to bleach my hair platinum blonde when I was younger."

"I am completely on the light side."

"I never loved my father but always wanted to prove myself to him."

"I've been out of contact with nearly everyone at the wedding today for the past six years."

More silence greeted these statements.

"Malfoy," said Hermione tentatively. She was almost afraid to be lying so close to him. "What was that?"

"So that I'm not hiding anything from you."

"That was six years ago," she said softly.

"And now it's six years on, and we haven't forgiven each other. You almost forgave me, almost took me back, but the fact that I hid things from you was my downfall."

"Malfoy …"

"It's 'Draco'."

Grateful for the dark, Hermione let a very small smile grace her lips. She turned her head ever so slowly in his direction, trying hard not to move too much lest he realise it.

"Draco, I forgive you."

"And I forgive you."

"Why –"

"You ran away and ended things before I could make it up to you. Just imagine if this had happened six years ago … imagine what life would be like now."

"Draco …"

"I'm sorry for what I did back then, and I forgive you for what you did. And …"

_Just go for it,_ said his brain.

"And, Hermione," he started, sensing correctly that Hermione had smiled more widely when he said her name. "I still want you. I want to keep going with what we started."

Hermione froze. Without warning, the tears she'd been trying to hold in all night let loose, dripping silently into the pillow. Why was she crying? She didn't actually know. Happiness? Anger? Sadness and regret?

She grabbed her wand from the bedside table. "_Lumos._ I'm sorry Draco, I need the bathroom," she said thickly through her tears. Holding the lit wand aloft, she ran over to the en suite and locked the door.

Draco lay silently in bed, still in the same position he had been in when he first settled into bed. He had not moved an inch

His heart, however, felt like it had slid down into his stomach as a brick.

* * *

**Poor Draco! He just told her he wanted to pick up from where they left off six years ago and she ran away! Well, okay, she only ran a few metres to the bathroom. She's still stuck in the Manor, just one heavy mahogany door from Draco … what will happen next? Will update soon!**


	5. It's All A Blur Last Night

**It's All A Blur Last Night**

**OMG GUESS WHAT? My title isn't a P!ATD song! It comes from **_**Waking up in Vegas**_** by Katy Perry. One of the only Katy Perry songs I like. Anyway, back to the story. So Draco's just admitted that he wants Hermione, and she's run into the bathroom crying. WHY, HERMIONE, WHY? Just take that chunk of hunk already and be done with it! But of course, that's not how this chapter goes. Why? Because I like to make you suffer. For now though, read away!**

Hermione sat on the edge of the marble bathtub, trying to control her tears. She sniffed a bit too loudly. Draco surely would have heard that from outside, especially since the huge marble bathroom amplified any noise made within.

What had just happened? She'd almost been raped, been rescued by Draco Malfoy, taken to his home without his parents knowing, climbed into his bed to spend the night here and then Draco had just completely and out of the blue, said he still wanted her.

_It sounds so much clearer than it actually is,_ thought Hermione. _I need time._

Still crying quietly, she stood up and swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. She turned on the spot and concentrated hard on Number 12, Grimmauld Place. She could go talk to Harry, Pansy, Ron; whoever was at the Order Headquarter right now.

Nothing happened. No constricting feeling, no sensation of being forced through a tight rubber tube. Only cold white marble and gold stared back at her desperate eyes. Tears welling again, she pulled a soft white towel from the towel rack and gently placed it down on the marble floor in front of the door before sitting down, back leaning against the uncomfortable hardwood door, clutching at her knees. Little did she know that Malfoy was right outside, having gotten up silently from bed to sit beside the door, hoping that she would come out.

Together, they spent the night silently pondering their feelings, oblivious to the fact that they were so close to each other, until finally, blissfully, falling asleep.

The next morning, Hermione woke with a terrible ache in her neck and shoulder. During the night, her head had lolled to the side, cramping the muscles on the right side of her neck. She raised her head gingerly and tried to stretch the tight muscles, grimacing as barbs of pain shot through her neck and shoulder.

_Where am I?_

Hermione felt like she was waking up from a late night drinking; her head pounded, her face was puffy, and her tongue felt thick and fuzzy. After a moment, she remembered last night's events.

_At least part of the reason I feel so bad this morning is from drinks at Luna's wedding,_ she thought. _The main reason isn't much comfort though._

Quietly, she stood up, taking a few unsteady steps. She stretched her hands out in front of her and scrunched her eyes shut in an effort to clear her head. A few seconds later, she reopened her eyes and walked composedly to the bathroom sink.

_Good Lord_, she silently exclaimed as she saw her reflection. She looked just as bad as she thought she would with her eyes bloodshot and puffy, her hair damp and tangled from her tears, and a bit of stubborn makeup smeared on her face. A few flicks of her wand were definitely required.

As she quietly murmured spells, watching her reflection as various parts of her appearance were restored, she again thought over what had transpired in the last 24 hours.

The most important thing was clear. Malfoy – no, _Draco_ – had said that he'd still wanted her.

Hermione bit her lip. She still had no idea how she felt. Why had she run, crying, from the bed? She twirled her wand vaguely in mid-air, catching the brush she conjured, and began to coax the knots out of her hair. If only she could conjure up a brush that could untangle the mess in her head.

As soon as her appearance had been fixed, she remembered another problem. How was she going to get out undetected by everyone? Apparition, she had already discovered, was useless. There was no fireplace and Floo Powder, nor were there a Portkey or even an open window and a broomstick. _Of course there isn't_, she told herself_. It's a bathroom._

She crept to the door and pressed her ear against the cold wood. Nothing.

"_Homonem revelio,_"she whispered. Her spell revealed a single human being … right outside the door? She pressed against the door again, straining her ears for any noise. This time, she heard light breathing. Barely audible, but there. She listened closely. The breaths were deep and slow; he was obviously still asleep.

Hardly daring to breathe, she opened the door and peered outside. Draco was slumped against the wall next to the doorframe, his hands hugging his knees and his head drooped slightly. Hermione stopped and studied his face. It was so angelic right now, perfectly relaxed, and his lips were turned up slightly at the corners. Hermione now realised she hadn't seen him smile once last night. She gazed at his lips and felt her own mouth curve into a smile. Almost with realising, she crouched down in front of him to get a better view of his face.

_Hermione?_ Her thoughts interrupted._ Shouldn't you get out before he wakes up?_

With a start, she quickly turned away and walked over to a chair near the bed where she had deposited her dress, shoes and bag after changing into Draco's old clothes. As she did, some of her hair whipped around and brushed against Draco's face. His sleepy murmur went unheard by Hermione as she rummaged around in her bag, checking to see that she had everything. God forbid she would ever have to come back to pick up something important she had left behind! Draco opened his eyes slowly. A white figure seemed to be decapitating itself a little way in front of him – what? He rubbed his eyes, brushing away the cloud of sleepiness. The white figure came into focus. It was Hermione, and she was pulling his shirt over her head. A tingle ran down Draco's spine, but he stayed silent and still, Hermione had smoothed out her dress and placed it on Draco's bed while she undressed, and now she turned to it, her body facing Draco. Quickly, he closed his eyes, leaving them barely open so that he was looking through his lashes. He still remembered every contour of Hermione's body, and from what he could see, nothing had changed. Hermione stepped into the dress and pulled it up, zipping it at the back, and turned away from him again to put on her shoes. Draco closed his eyes fully.

Hermione finished putting her shoes on and began to fold the white t-shirt and shorts that Draco had lent her the night before. Placing them in a neat pile on the bed, she picked up her bag and began to leave.

She stopped. _It would be rude if I just left_, she thought. _But he would know why, wouldn't he?_

Sighing, she sat back down on the bed and pulled out a quill and scrap of parchment from her bag. Even in times of emotional stress and romantic tension, she was the epitome of class and etiquette.

"_Draco,_

_Thank you for rescuing me last night and allowing me to stay in your home. I had to leave early this morning because of Order duties. I hope you understand, and thank you again._

_Hermione."_

Hermione's quill stopped writing, but continued to hover over her words. "_Order duties"._ Hermione pursed her lips. She didn't like to lie, but what else was she meant to say? _"I had to leave early because I need to be away from you for a while"_? No, no, _"Order duties"_ would suffice. She was definitely planning on going to the Order Headquarters anyway. She still needed to do what she had wanted to last night; find anyone and pour out what had happened.

She laid the note on top of the folded clothes, packed the quill back into her bag and entered the closet. With an uneasy sensation in her stomach, she found the railing covered with dress robes and suits, brushed the clothes aside and found the door to the secret room. Crossing the room with haste, she wrenched open the next door and ran down the spiral staircase as quickly as she could in three-inch pumps.

Hermione crashed through the final door and into the garden, falling terribly as her pumps sank into the lawn, soft and damp from the morning dew. She started let out a scream of pain but clenched her teeth to shut herself up. The pain was agonising; she was sure she'd sprained both ankles.

_Damn you, John Galliano. Damn you and your aptitude for designing irresistible women's shoes._

Cursing under her breath, Hermione gingerly yanked her feet out of the grass and sat down before extracting her wand from her bag and muttering "_Episkey_" twice, pointing at each of her ankles. The burned for a moment, then cooled down. She rolled her feet in a circular motion experimentally. They were fine.

She glanced around quickly to check that no one had heard her scream and come running. Pulling the pumps off her feet, she tossed them into the depths of her deceptively small bag and conjured metallic silver flats instead. Slipping them on, she ran down the side path and off the property.

Upstairs, Draco watched her from behind his thin silk curtains. When she'd fallen, he had involuntarily bit his lip and furrowed his brow in concern for her … why did she affect him like this? They hadn't so much as even seen each other for six years and had spent the previous night confused and upset at each other. Draco sighed. It was just his Slytherin qualities showing through. He hadn't been evil in a long time, but there was no doubt that he was still manipulative and cunning. Sure, nowadays the only reasons he used these traits were to get innocent favours from friends, good words put in for him at work or sometimes just to make up excuses not to do things he didn't feel like doing, but the intentions were all the same. To have things his way, to have the things he wanted. He wanted Hermione Granger, but did he have her?

_No. And it kills me._

Meanwhile, outside, Hermione had made it off the property by using a side entrance she knew from the past that was always open. She concentrated hard on Grimmauld Place and vanished with a pop.

**Wow, no dialogue in this chapter! There was actually only one spoken thing in the entire chapter: **_**Homonem revelio.**_** I'm not that great with writing dialogue.**

**Tee hee, don't worry; I'm fully aware that I'm going painfully slowly. It'll get more dramatic very soon. Patience, young grasshoppers.**

**Although your patience will be tested to some degree since I have exams right now. Just had two major exams today, akdfnalekfnawlkf. Next chapter might not be up until next week, sorry**


	6. The Rooms Have A Hint Of Asbestos

**The Rooms Have A Hint Of Asbestos**

**Back to Panic! at the Disco lyrics. That line's from **_**Build God, Then We'll Talk**_**. I LOVE that song. To the story though; I promised drama very soon last chapter and you'll get it … next chapter. SUCKERS! **

**Don't worry, that doesn't mean this chapter will be silent angst and sprained ankles again. People – this is the lead-up to the start of the showdown.**

The man inside the telephone booth jumped violently as a woman appeared out of nowhere right outside the glass box.

"Bloody hell!" he yelped.

Hermione whipped around at the sound of his startled yell. _Oh bloody hell indeed,_ she thought. _How careless of me_. Quickly, she circled the telephone booth and wrenched open the door. Pulling her wand out again, she pointed it at the man, ready to cast a Memory Charm.

"Hermione!" the man said. "Call you later," he said quickly into the phone, and hung up.

"Harry?" she said uncertainly, lowering her wand slowly.

"Yes, it's me. You thought I was a Muggle? God, Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry grabbed her wand hand and forced her arm down so that the wand was no longer pointed at him. "You're never this touchy."

"Um," she whispered quietly. "It's nothing, Harry." She couldn't tell him now, having just inadvertently tried to wipe his memory.

Harry was silent for a moment, watching his friend slowly shrink in front of him. He'd known her for fifteen years now, and knew that this was one of those times when it was best to just wait for her to talk rather than pushing her to.

"Come on," he said firmly, putting an arm around her. Hermione huddled in the crook of his arm, taking in her friend's warmth as they crossed the square to the Order Headquarters.

"Sorry," she eventually murmured. The various locks and other protective devices clicked loudly as they opened up. Harry shook her a little in a comforting way.

"It's alright, Mione. Sit down in the living room, I'll get some tea."

"Is anyone else here?" she asked as they crossed over the threshold.

"Yeah, Ron, Dean and Pansy should be here. I'm not sure if anyone else is though."

Hermione smiled slightly. Dean and Pansy she could tell, but definitely not Ron. He was good friends with Blaise now, but hadn't seen Draco in six years. The last time he had spoken about him, he had called him "Ferret-face". Hermione could only assume that he definitely wasn't ready to hear what she had to say about him now.

"Could you ask Pansy to come join us too?" she asked. Ron could stay with Dean so that he didn't feel left out.

"Sure," agreed Harry. "Sit down, I'll get her and join you two in five minutes."

Hermione walked slowly to the living room. It was cold, freezing in fact. Shivering, Hermione pulled out her wand for what seemed like the fiftieth time that morning and pointed it to the fireplace. Immediately, a crackling fire appeared, the heat rushing to greet her in a wave of warmth. She approached the fireplace and watched the flames.

"Hermione!" a voice cried out.

She turned around to see Pansy looking concernedly at her. "Hi," she said quietly, only managing a small smile instead of the usual full-out grin.

"Are you alright?" Pansy asked, walking quickly to her side and peering into her face.

"I need to talk to you," said Hermione.

"Harry told me so. Hermione, what's wrong? And why is your bum wet?"

Hermione looked up at her friend with a puzzled expression. She turned around and confirmed that there was indeed a patch of dress right over her bum that was a darker shade of navy than the rest.

"Fell down in wet grass. It's okay, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Sighing, she sat down in a chintz armchair by the fire. Dumbledore had conjured about a hundred of these chairs years ago and there were at least two in every room of the vast House of Black. Pansy levitated one so that it was close to and faced Hermione's.

"Just let it all out, sweetie," said Pansy, patting Hermione's hand.

"Can we wait for Harry?" asked Hermione.

"No need to wait, I'm here," called Harry as his footsteps sounded in the hallway outside. Within seconds, he entered the room, carrying a tray laden with a teapot, three mugs and scones. Hermione suddenly felt ravenous. She hadn't had anything do eat since the reception a million years ago.

Harry set the tray down on a table near the two women and levitated the third and final chintz armchair in the room to land next to Hermione's, angled slightly so that he was also directly facing Pansy. Hermione smiled. She liked the feeling of being surrounded by warmth; on two sides by the warmth of her friends, and one side by the warmth of the fire. She poured tea out for all of them and cradled her mug in her palms.

"So … I have to talk to you two," she said. Harry and Pansy exchanged an exasperated glance.

"Yes, Hermione, we know," said Harry.

Pansy spoke up. "Are you about to tell us the reason you forgot to Floo me after the wedding last night?"

Hermione nodded. "I was walking down the road to go catch a cab … this Muggle man, he dragged me into an alley," she stared. Pansy gasped and Harry's eyes widened as his fists clenched.

"God, Hermione," he murmured. "He didn't hurt you did he?"

"No, no, he didn't. Draco rescued me."

"Malfoy?"

"Mhmm."

Pansy looked confused. "How did that happen?"

"He was taking the same road as me, and when he saw what happened, he pulled the man off me and wiped his memory," said Hermione, succinctly recounting the previous night's events. She didn't feel like going into the details of that particular scene.

"Then he took me back to the Manor, and –"

Harry was frowning now. "Hermione?"

Hermione was suddenly blushing furiously. It felt so ridiculous, the unsaid words.

Pansy sighed. "Do you want to take a Calming Draught first?" she asked. "I know you know you're going to tell us at some stage, but seeing as that may take another fifty years, at least the Calming Draught will make you peaceful enough to talk about it with us now."

Hermione nodded gratefully. "Thanks so much, Pants."

With a light billowing of her robes, Pansy left the room in search of her vial of Calming Draught. Harry picked up a scone and pushed it into Hermione's hand.

"Eat, Mione. You'll feel better on a full stomach."

Hermione gave him a smile and began to chew slowly, wondering with an increasing amount of trepidation what she was going to say under the influence of the Draught.

As though reading her mind, Harry reached out his hand and put it consolingly on her shoulder. "It's okay, Mione. You're basically my sister. Nothing you say or do will ever change the fact that I love you like family."

"Found it!" called Pansy as she walked back into the room. She uncorked the little bottle and carefully handed it to Hermione. With little hesitation now, Hermione drank the potion and immediately felt lethargic and light-hearted.

"Feeling better?" Pansy asked, trying to look into Hermione's drooping eyes. "I think I gave you a bit too much."

"Fine. I feel perfectly fine," said Hermione dreamily.

"Can you tell us what happened last night then?" asked Harry.

"Sure," Hermione acquiesced. "So after we went to the Manor, he got me some old clothes to wear as pyjamas since I didn't have anything except this dress. Then we wondered a bit about sleeping arrangements, and he told me to just join him in bed since we were mature, and his parents wouldn't be too happy to find me the next morning in one of the guest bedrooms. And after that, we were in bed and it was horrible awkward. Then he told me he still wanted me and I locked myself into the bathroom and stayed there all night and came out this morning and Disapparated."

Harry stifled a laugh after she finished. A grammatically-improper Hermione who could divulge information like this without batting an eyelid? She could do with taking a Calming Draught over-dosage every day.

Pansy glared incredulously at him. "Why the hell are you _laughing_?" she asked.

"Oh come on, it's Hermione telling us this kind of stuff without cringing or even pausing. It's crazy, like Luna's mind in Hermione's body!"

"You git," said Pansy impatiently. "Did you not hear the story behind the stupid grammar?"

"Err … enlighten me," said Harry uncomfortably.

Pansy rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Mione is almost _raped_ and Malfoy rescues her, whisks her off to his castle known as the Malfoy Manor, horrible sexual tension ensues and he tells her he wants her. She gets scared, runs off, _voila_, here we are."

"Oh I don't know that it was sexual tension, per se," interrupted Hermione serenely. "I found him quite attractive but I don't know about him."

Harry burst into a fit of giggles. "Oh God, Hermione, you've had your fun, now don't talk anymore about Malfoy's alleged hotness."

Pansy leaned forwards and smacked him on the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"Mr Potter, do I have your attention now?" she asked severely.

"Yes, woman, now what?"

"Why don't we ask Hermione?"

Harry sighed good-naturedly. "Okay Hermione. Did you just want to tell us this or was there something you wanted to discuss more?"

"Oh, the latter, of course," said Hermione, still in a vague tone. "You see, I have no idea why I ran away crying into the bathroom after he told me he still wanted me."

Harry suddenly lost his flippant mood as he remembered Hermione's past with Malfoy.

"It's because he hurt you," he said angrily. "Again."

"Really?" asked Hermione dimly.

"_Yes_," said Harry stiffly. "You never actually told me the full story of what happened, but I could tell it was really unforgivable."

"We forgave each other before he mentioned to me that he still wanted me."

"What did _he_ have to forgive _you_ for?" growled Harry.

"Oh now Harry, don't be mean," Hermione reprimanded, slightly more seriously. "I left without giving him the chance to make amends. I was halfway towards taking him back but then I had to screw things up and leave and never come back. We were quite in love back then, too," she added.

Harry sighed. "Hermione …"

"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione, clapping her hands happily. "I know! I'll still in love with him!"

Harry looked deeply perturbed. "Hermione, what about Anthony?"

Hermione turned a mildly confused face to Harry. "Who?"

"Your _boyfriend_," said Harry incredulously. "Hermione, please tell me your alleged _love_ for Malfoy has not made you forget about your boyfriend of two years. Anthony Goldstein, remember? In the Order with us, fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, Prefect, et cetera?"

"Ohh," said Hermione, comprehension dawning on her face. "Yeah, that guy!"

"Yes, _that guy_," repeated Harry. "You can't go chasing after Malfoy, Mione. You love Anthony, and he's not going to hurt you like Draco did."

There was a pause as Hermione processed what Harry had just told her.

"Do you think it's possible to love two people at once?" she eventually asked.

"For some, maybe," replied Harry, rolling his eyes. "When you're concerned, definitely not."

"Well then I guess I'll choose to love Draco."

"What?" gasped Harry, aghast. "No! You belong with Anthony! Malfoy is totally wrong for you!"

Hermione attempted to shoot him a severe look but merely looked drunk. "I think I know what's best for myself," she said in as icy a manner as she could muster.

"No, Hermione, I'm not sure you do." Harry ran his hands through his hair wearily. "You're just high on potion right now."

"Harry, I'm thinking clearly right now. I know I am," assured Hermione. "Don't worry, I'll clear this up with both Anthony and Draco."

Slumping back in his armchair, Harry exhaled heavily and closed his eyes. "Alright," he finally said, conceding defeat. "Whatever you decide to do won't change the fact that you'll always be considered family to me. I love you like a sister and I'm trusting you here to do the right thing."

Hermione squirmed happily in her seat. "Cheers, Harry!"

Pansy had been silent now for a while. She was Hermione's best girl friend, but she knew that she would never be as close to Hermione as Harry was. After all, he'd been friends with him since eleven, whereas she'd only been friends with her since they were seventeen. And prior to that, she'd spent six years bullying her whenever she saw an opportunity to do so. Because of this, she had seen fit to act merely like a judge during a trial, keeping order. Harry had done the talking and Hermione was happy now.

But … she felt a strange feeling deep in her gut.

Was it worry for Hermione that she would get herself hurt again by the same man?

_Don't be daft,_ a voice whispered venomously in her ear. _You know the real reason._

Shut up, Pansy thought, fighting her own thoughts.

_Don't even bother lying to yourself, Pansy_, said the voice. _Can't you see the futility in that? Just admit it already._

Pansy screwed her face up and a few tears leaked out of her eyes. Hermione was twirling her wand in mid-air, causing massive purple bubbles to erupt from the end, oblivious to Pansy's inner turmoil.

Sighing, Pansy dredged up the memories from sixth year.

"_Draco, please," she said desperately, clutching the sheets to herself. "Please, come back!"_

_Malfoy ran his hands distractedly through his hair. "Why, Pansy?" he asked tiredly. "So that you can keep bossing me around, pressuring me to do things I don't want?"_

_Pansy lowered her eyes in shame and felt the first tears forming. "I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered."I just want to make the most of our time together."_

_Draco turned to her with a frustrated look. "I just don't understand what's happened to you," he said sadly. "You used to be so … you used to be you. Now, you've just turned into someone else. You're always trying to make me do something against my will. We used to take care of each other, Pansy."_

_Pansy's lower lip trembled. "I – I just don't want to lose you," she whispered shakily._

_Draco stiffened. "What do you mean?"_

"_You're always sneaking around inside, working yourself to the bone for this assignment that's been given to you by the – the Dark Lord. You said it yourself that he doesn't think you can succeed. So why are you doing this, Draco?"_

"_It's none of your business."_

"_Yes, it is!" she cried, flaring up. "I love you Draco! I don't want to see you go!"_

_Draco was silent for a long time. "I loved you too," he eventually said. "But right now, I just want you to get out of my life."_

_She whimpered imploringly._

"_Please, Pansy."_

_Sniffling, she nodded, and pulled her clothes back on under the sheets. She tried to give him one last kiss goodbye, but he turned his head and she only brushed her lips against his cheek._

"_Goodbye, Draco."_

Pansy returned back to reality, sighing sadly. She turned her gaze to Hermione, who was now trying to catch the enormous bubbles she had created. Draco wanted her and she wanted him.

A tiny serpent in the pit of her stomach woke after nine years of hibernation and let out a low hiss.

**Oh you, Pansy Parkinson. My heart would bleed for you if it were not for the fact that you are SO OBVIOUSLY GOING TO TRY MESSING WITH DRAMIONE. NOBODY MESSES WITH DRAMIONE. **

**By the way, Pansy in the "asbestos" in the room (see chapter title), in case you hadn't figured it out or forgotten about it.**

**Okay so now you know for sure that there will be a little girly drama. But how exactly is this going to go down? Tune in soon for the next instalment!**


End file.
